A SETTING SUN
Gloria Seaman opened her eyes to a setting sun.

The last thing she could remember seeing was the tree, right before it swallowed her, and she screamed at the memory and sat up. The first thing that struck her was that she was naked, clad only in panties and her hands went to her breasts to cover them on instinct.

Looking around her in terror for the tree, there was nothing in sight, except for her clothes folded and carefully kept by her head, and some objects arranged to form a circle around her.

Red, black. Sandy. Almost wet. Metal too.

With a jolt, she jumped at the sight, seeing a piece of military headgear covered in blood at one part. Now she knew what they were.

Pieces of human flesh cut in pieces, divided, mauled and arranged to form a circle whose centre she had just woken in. The most prominent one was a decapitated head at one side, exactly perpendicular to where her feet had been.

It was the head of General Pierre.

The only thing that was untouched.

Her han
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